lilium of light
by The Legend of Chocolate
Summary: [One-Shot] The Lilium 'Stargazer' is the prettiest of them all. It dies in life and lives in death. - ScorpiusLily *for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition (Round 3: Rarepairs) on the behalf of the Seeker, Mrs.Sirius.Padfoot*


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.  
**

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**lilium of light**

_Harry Potter – Rated: T – English – Romance & Hurt/Comfort – Lily Luna P. & Scorpius M._

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All her life, Lily's relatives had spun tales that when she grew up, she would encounter a man who'd praise her to her skies, sighing at her ravishing beauty and her heart of gold. He'd call her the Lilium 'Stargazer', the prettiest lily that ever existed, and for a long time, she'd be loved. Not suspended within the inundating vertigo of romantic love, or showered with the resplendent gifts that spoilt love entailed, but acknowledged with the silent, adoring love of a one who treasured her much more than anyone else ever would.

Maybe, just maybe, the one minuscule part of her mind that wasn't tainted by her cynical thoughts had believed them.

She just never thought _he'd_ be that person.

.

.

.

"Potter, Lily!"

All eyes were trained onto the first-year's reluctant traipse across the hall to the stool where the battered old Sorting Hat lay in anticipation. Her fingers were subconsciously digging into her milky ecru skin as it was lowered ever so tentatively over her flaming red tresses.

She was a Potter, they reasoned, rolling their eyes and turning away from the child of the phenomenon that was Harry Potter. Of _course_ she would be sorted into Gryffindor, just like her parents and siblings and every single one of her cousins, so it was no mystery, really–

"SLYTHERIN!"

For what seemed like an eternity, the hall was silent.

All conversation stopped.

All eyes turned to stare.

Lily Luna Potter, only daughter of Harry Potter, the renowned Boy Who Lived and Saviour of the Wizarding World, reached up with trembling fingers and flung the Sorting Hat onto the floor. Objective achieved, she lifted her chin as bravely as she could in an attempt to exude indifference before stalking towards the Slytherin table, away from the horrified gazes of her brothers.

Her verisimilar façade deceived everyone but a certain third-year with platinum-blond hair eyeing the young Slytherin from the long table at the other end of the hall.

.

.

.

Thunder threw its vociferous roar across the realm. Lightning erupted soon after, its incandescent glow setting the ruinous – and yet still so glorious – castle ablaze. The towering turrets shivered. Shadows dancing on the walls to a hypnotic rhythm inaudible to the human ear were only too willing to swallow them up.

An eleven-year-old girl with glossy red hair ruffled only in her sleep awoke to hollow, tormented screams reverberating off the walls of her room, which had always seemed safe but never felt so constrictive before now...

It was a long time before she realised that those screams were her own.

Skin drenched in cold sweat and breaths escaping her in hard, laboured pants as though she had been running, Lily sat ramrod-straight on her bed, breathing heavily in a futile attempt to calm her frenzied heart. She had been dreaming of a world in colour, with vibrantly hued lilies floating in the water, which was glistening a soft, golden yellow shade of the sun blazing against the azure sky.

But all dreams eventually come to an end, and hers had ended with the lily, once a prominent and inextricable feature of the lush scenery, dissipating to be replaced by a single red rose, flawless down to the very last blood-red petal.

.

.

.

"Lily, Lily, Lily," Scorpius Malfoy whispered into her ear with that lilting baritone singing a melody spun by enchantment. Outwardly, she froze, but unbeknownst to him, her right hand was already creeping towards the wand tucked away in her pocket.

"Congratulations on being Sorted into Slytherin." Brazen smirk still intact, he swung himself up and onto the table with the sinuous grace of a feline, waving a hand dismissively at the Slytherins who glared dissent. "Wonderful house, really, though I must say it came as a surprise…"

_Translation: Slytherin is a really awful house inhabited by the spawns of Satan and you deserve to be stuck with Azkaban's future residents. Looks like the Potters disowned you, too. Sad._

Undeterred by her distinct lack of reaction, the third-year Gryffindor continued, "You're really different from your cousin, you know?"

She genuinely froze this time at the mention of her perfect, _perfect_ cousin. _Please, don't… Stop talking…_

"She continued the family tradition of being Sorted into Gryffindor." Scorpius cocked his head to the side, eyebrows arched questioningly. Lily knew that he didn't mean it – that his words were more to tease than to taunt – and yet they elicited a reaction bordering precariously on pure, white-hot hatred as they reverberated in her ears. "Maybe old Voldemort's soul is still attached to daddy dearest, hmm?"

_Maybe I should take my wand and shove it up that pompous ass of yours._

Her fingers, lithe and lethal, wrapped around the wand as a serpentine predator would coil around its prey, relishing the adrenalin rush of pure _power_ that instantaneously throbbed to life beneath her fingertips.

.

.

.

"Did you see–"

"The wand was _radiating_ red–"

"– like she was _possessed._ No first-year should be able to execute such powerful magic–"

Lily's face was devoid of all emotion as she sat by Scorpius's bed in the hospital wing, watching impassively as the nurse pursed her lips and flicked her wand at his arm. It was almost mangled, blossoming in blood, but it could've been worst. At least it remained screwed on.

She could feel the gazes of passers-by burning into her back, ripping apart the mask she had taken to draping across her face ever since her entry to Slytherin House. They had clearly expected more of the daughter of Harry Potter, sister of James and Albus and most of all, cousin of Rose, one of the brightest witches of her year. Even if she was a Slytherin, there was still a chance that she would turn out decently.

Now, her stark, revolting and _imperfect_ soul was laid out for all to see.

And she hated herself for it.

.

.

.

Nursing his bandaged arm gingerly, he slipped out of the hospital wing easily enough with the aid of his natural craftiness and stealth. He needed some fresh air after three days of confinement within what felt like walls of a prison. _The lake_, his mind whispered tantalising words filled with longing.

However, upon reaching his destination, he noted dryly that he wouldn't get to savour the cool breeze caressing his face and ruffling his hair or the way the water glittered invitingly as the moonlight reflected off it.

She stood, her long flame-red hair redolent of forest fires against the lush trees falling over her face and shrouding it from view. It cascaded freely to her hip, seemingly luminescent and accentuating her sharp features.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, stuffing her hands into her pockets. It was evident from her faintly disgruntled demeanour that she really, _really_ didn't want to apologise, and was only doing so because it was required of her.

Deciding to rile her up a little, he sauntered to her side, the corner of his mouth tilting up in amusement at the sight of her instinctive recoil. "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. What did you say?"

Her expression was priceless, replete with menacingly narrowed eyes and distaste gracing her lips. "I said I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"Don't test my patience, Malfoy," she spat, venom dripping ominously from every word. The Slytherin, having successfully delivered her apology (albeit an insubstantial one), swivelled around to leave.

.

.

.

"Lilium Stargazer."

Before she could protest, he enveloped her in a warm embrace and she fit _perfectly_ into the crook of his arm.

He held her gently in his arms for several long moments, as if she were a delicate flower that could shatter into smithereens at any point in time.

"Lilium Stargazer," he whispered, as the sensation of his light breath caressing her skin sent shivers down her spine. "The most beautiful lily there is."

.

.

.

She dreamt of a world in colour, with vibrantly hued lilies floating in the water, which was glistening a soft, golden yellow shade of the sun blazing against the azure sky.

It remained the same until the end.

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_[A/N: I'm not proud of this **at all**. I'm so sorry I screwed up your entry, Brie, but I don't write well under pressure... Plus I had to write this and study for my exams tomorrow at the same time. (It's not easy to recite all the factors affecting climate while writing fanfiction.)  
/sobs that my first Scily is so disappointing  
The Lilium 'Stargazer' thing only comes in because I Googled "prettiest lily" and it came up. And the dream is supposed to symbolise Lily's low self-esteem after being sorted into Slytherin...  
This will eventually be taken down for major proofreading and revision._

_Done for: The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition (Round 3: Rarepairs) on the behalf of .Padfoot, the **Seeker**._

**~TLoC**

**{Caerphilly Catapults Beater 2}**


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